Not Just Like You
by RchHghr
Summary: Just like the other’s Zack is going through one of his ‘rough patches.’ Staying with Jondy reveals her true feelings to the one who will never return them.


Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Angel. It belongs to its respectable owners.

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Just like the other's Zack is going through one of his 'rough patches.' Staying with Jondy reveals her true feelings to the one who will never return them.

-

At the strike of two she did not turn into a pumpkin, but instead got a better opportunity. She was able to help close up the bar she worked at and go home.

"Finally," she exclaimed to herself as she started out the door.

Since six that evening it had been 'madd' packed. A major football game had been going down, and with the giant flat screen on the wall, 'everyone and their mother' just had to get a piece of the action. This ensured chaos, because with the crowd mortality to the smallest brain there everyone was drinking and cheering, or booing. Both sides of the game were there. When one got more action than the other, angry glares and sneers were tossed around.

Jondy didn't care one bit about the game. She wasn't into football or any other kinds of sports like that. She liked fighting, and sneaking, but none of them were to know that, and she couldn't show any of the people there that because it would simply compromise her position.

Since it was her night to work she had to act like she did; you know, blend in with the crowd. Just to keep, like she was into it she wore a jersey shirt with one of the teams on it. It was blue, so she didn't care which side it was. Luckily, that team won. She was relived. She received more tips because of it. The tips were bumpin'. She made about two-hundred in tips, which put her in a great mood.

Though not the whole night was all 'beers and cheers', for her. Jondy had to break up a few fights every now and then, and the 'lightweights;' forget it. Most of the men thought they were 'macho-tough' and could handle their liquor, but all they managed to do was make fools of themselves. Not tootin' her horn or anything, but she could out drink anyone there twice over.

Since she was made that way she knew how to hold it, but also with great practice. When the strong, horrible memories of their Manticore days sparked up, and the pain was too much for her to handle she found her choice of drink, and downed it until she was too far along to remember, and she forgot.

Tomorrow, well technically today she would do herself a well-about in grocery shopping. The only things she had in her refrigerator were a small box of doughnuts and a half of gallon of cranberry juice.

Unless Zack has come to make a visit. When he came he ate whatever, but left her money for more; like that was beside the point. Instead of the money he could buy the food. Bum.

For the season to be three weeks into autumn it was very chilly. The wind was gusting, which blew her hair around wildly.

She didn't have a jacket, but she didn't live far anyways so she would be able to make it home quickly, and throw open all her windows if everything was okay.

The weather felt to be perfect sleeping weather-if she slept all the time anyways. She didn't need it most of the time, but for the night she'd take the opportunity anyways to relax and unwind.

A block away from her building she could already see it and her apartment. A light was on, but as quickly as it was, it was off. Zack was there; no surprise there. He appeared at odd times; especially at night. He only used the light when he was invading her kitchen. It was funny to her because he, 'Said he needed the light to 'estimate' about how far along the food was, and whether it was durable to eat.' He ate it anyways- even if she couldn't. Sometimes food wasn't bad when the date on the package said so. It was only bad when it either looked of smelled the way it normally didn't.

Then she remembered she had spice drops, a whole bag on the side of her television set. They were his favorite. They were probably gone by now.

She took the flight of stairs up to her second floor apartment and put the single key in the lock. Opening the door she stepped in and closed the door behind, locking it.

She double checked it.

All the lights were off, and everything was quiet.

Zack should be here, she told herself, unless someone broke in. Jondy was so used to Zack's odd visits that she let her guard down a little bit, because she only expected him. She'd never admit it aloud but her guard has slipped in the past few years. She was in 'safe's-way' now, because she was discreet, and lived well without compromise.

But now that was gone, and her senses were heightening back up. It could happen, she had to tell herself. The nightmares told her all about it, and she had to always look out, and keep her guard up. Build walls, she told herself.

In the kitchen she saw the lump on her bed, and relaxed to see Zack's face, but faltered.

He was pale and sweating, so she went into her room and over to him where she sat on the edge of the bed.

His eyes popped open, but he made no move to get up.

At least he was alert.

"You know your butt should be on the couch," she tried to joke. She leaned the side of her face toward his face and recieved her kiss on the cheek from him.

His lips are very warm.

He lay on his side opposite of her, and lightly shook.

All the signs added up. He was having a 'rough one,' when the seizures were out of control for a few days.

It was not a joking manner, but from talk with Brin and Zane, Zack had seen them at their worst of times when they were going through a rough one. Now, he was going through his 'weakest'; he probably didn't want anyone to see, but he was here.

He needed to know that at times of need he _could_ rely on them, and they would come to his aid and help him. He was just way too stubborn, seriously. He only thought he was the only one to help.

She'd get him to relax before he left.

"Hey Zack," she said. She took off her boots and socks, as well as the jersey shirt, and stayed in her jeans and tank top.

He didn't say anything. He just laid there.

The brunette had to rack her brain. She couldn't recall for any reason that he would be mad at her. Last time he visited she was working, and hooked him up with drinks. It wasn't a time where they were fighting, and he 'disappeared' pissed.

It was actually a time they got along, and not one argument ensured. Was he pissed because he wasn't feeling well? If so he was going to be pissed for days.

"Whatever," she replied to his back. It wasn't going to bother her. If he wanted to be prissy, and 'piss-n-moan' silently, it was fine 

with her. He could stay silent for the whole time he was there. He could be another piece of the furniture.

Stepping away to her dresser she saw the bottle of tryptophan on the floor with the lid off and empty. His or hers, she didn't know until she opened her top drawer and saw that her bottle was gone.

There were three left anyways.

He needed more, if he took hers, than he was out. She'd get more. There was a local pharmacy that was opened twenty-hours, and she knew they had it stocked with many other vitamins and crap. Though it was expensive, she had it covered.

He was lucky she had a good night in tips.

She put her socks and boots back on.

"Where are you headed?" he questioned sitting up.

"Wow, the creature speaks," she said sarcastically, but not forgetting to add the 'snob' in her voice.

She picked up her purple cotton coat off the floor and put it on, then faced him. "The twenty-four hour pharmacy," she said, "I need to pick up a few things." She picked up the bottle off the floor, and put it in the trash.

He put his feet on the floor. "I'll go with you."

She stopped, startled, and turned back slightly, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He nodded and stood shoes already on.

"Shoes on my bed?" she 'tsked' shaking her head trying to joke again.

He would not lighten up.

He didn't say any comment to what she said, and he always had something to say. He was always disapproving something like a strict parent. Maybe one day he should be a parent, have a daughter, he could be strict to that would hate him.

Though none of them hated him. They hated his attitude half the time, and the way he was "still back at Manticore." But they listened to him because he was headstrong and wanted only what was best for them. Secretly, they'd never admit it, but though many thick layers of skin, blood and bone they loved him; most of the time. He set them free. He was the one who wanted it for them. He always put them above himself.

But the overstatement of their love for him was especially strong for Jondy. She loved him. Every visit, good or bad always put a smile on her face. She could never tell him that. He would never take that in any way. His priorities were set. Plus, she could feel that, he had feelings elsewhere even though feelings for him were rare.

But he came along and that was what mattered. Just visits; and she felt fine with it.

She locked the door and checked it again before they left. Everything was normal-like nothing was wrong or hidden.

Everyone just thought that she was 'the girl next door.' She worked in the bar, and made so much noise on her terms. A motorcycle, a stereo, and the slam of the door when she was late for work left the impression that she was just like every young woman around tryin' to make a living.

Living 'funked out' she attracted men, and even sometimes gave them the slightest of time. If heat called, she took on more than she could bargain for; they sometimes thought that that one night meant more. None of it meant anything, at all. She pushed those men away before anything she got violent.

Walking through the slums, it was majority wise quiet. Bums, homeless, and 'party-heads' were out and about. Trash can fires lit up the night, where they gathered to keep warm.

The bar was closed, so they had to find something to do, and go.

Jondy really wanted to talk to Zack like she secretly talked to Zane. A conversation, that's what she wanted. Everything had to be 'under-wraps.' Even normal talk was not really spoken when it came to him.

She took a look at his face, and then looked straight ahead. He was pale, but other than that he looked like normally did; stonic, tough-willed and casual. Jeans, a leather jacket, and a red thermo underneath, he dressed casual enough to blend in with any crowd.

The twenty-dour hour pharmacy was still a ways off, and she was already bored with walking with him, so she watched her breath visible in the night's air and started singing quietly to herself.

"Somewhere out there, out where dreams-"

He looked at her.

She shut up. It wasn't as though she had thought she sounded bad, she thought she rocked. It was that he looked at her which meant that he was listening and he acknowledged.

He should acknowledge it, she thought, the song anyways.

On one of his "visits" to her bar, (which she come to realize he came and always scored free drinks) there was live entertainment that night, and that song was the last one of the night.

Everyone was focused on the duet on stage, so Jondy hoped over the counter and next to Zack. They both stood the farthest away from the entertainment where as everyone were ahead of them.

The song was going on beautifully. The vocals were fantastic. Just the feel felt like a long-distance love.

She put her arm around Zack's waist.

Shockingly, surprisingly, he pulled her to the front of him and put both arms around her waist. She leaned back against him and felt safe and happy. She could've stayed like that forever, but that wasn't going to happen. She knew it and always knew not to hope for things she'd never get.

It was wrong in every sense; they were meant to be siblings. They were all screwed up anyways, so the binds to hold always twisted and broke away.

The words were over, and the two singers looked into each others' eyes while last strums filled the air. Zack let go and walked away.

Thoughtless enough, she hoped back over the counter and took his glass and downed it. She had customers to tend to.

The memory replay in her head made continuing that song a 'no-no.'

A familiar face from the bar caught her attention and she waved at her. She was hooking up with another guy.

The girl waved back and winked.

The poor girl was always hooking up with a new guy.

They made it to the pharmacy and he stood against the building. When she asked him why, he just told her to hurry up.

She had the knack that he just came to watch she didn't 'bust' trouble, or cause it. He didn't come by will, and he didn't even want to come in.

"Need anything?" she questioned.

He shook his head, but approached her, and grabbed her hand low, put the money in and closed it.

She stuffed that hand in her pocket.

"You know," he whispered, and was going to pull away when she grabbed him back and whispered, "I was gonna pay for it myself."

"But I'm the one who needs it," he whispered back sharply.

"So," she answered back, and smirked, "Whatever you gave me I'll blow it on candy," she gave him a kiss on his cold cheek and went in.

She picked up the tryptophan, but also other vitamins and crap to not look so inconspicuous. The candy she told Zack she was going to buy, she brought with a few things to eat and drink, and three long glass candles.

At the register the cashier was someone who appeared in the bar, and like the other times she asked what the vitamins were for, in a joking kind of way. And, like the other times she told her that with working at the bar she lost many brain cells, and other functions. She had to replenish before her next night of work. They'd laugh.

She pulled out the money he had given her from her coat, and saw that it was a hundred dollar bill.

Where did he g- she didn't want to know; probably the same way of when she really needed it.

She stuffed it into the other pocket of her jeans and payed with her own money. She will give his back. He didn't need to give her anything, she had it covered. Besides, she needed it too.

Outside Zack was leaning against the building where she left him.

"Let's go," she went to him.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he joined her.

An old woman with a teen girl, probably her granddaughter were heading toward the pharmacy.

She stopped Jondy and Zack in their wake and smiled at the two of them.

What was an old woman doing out at this hour?

"You two are so cute," she exclaimed and touched Jondy's cheek.

Jondy smiled at her.

Zack felt ridiculous.

The old woman gave a stern look to Zack. Her granddaughter stayed silent.

"You may look like a gentleman, but you are not acting like one. Why is she carrying two bags? Why aren't you holding her hand? You should be ashamed of yourself," she thwacked Zack on the nose.

He wouldn't do anything to the old lady. He just stood there with the look that he was unamused, and under that, agitated.

Jondy had to hold everything in her power not to laugh. If anyone did that to Zack, even one of his brother's and sister's they would not, in no way get away with it.

Zack had a pain flash in his eyes, and he shuttered.

That meant trouble.

The old woman spoke words, but he was not hearing any of them.

He grabbed the bags and Jondy's hand and dragged her away.

A ways away he stuffed two pills into his mouth at the bus stop they sat at.

"You okay?" she asked. She went to move his hair out of his face, but he shunned her away and didn't say a word.

They were walking again. He was silent and she held her bags with her right hand. With her left hand, empty, she wished she could hold his hand.

Why couldn't she? She could just reach out and grab it. The worst he could do is keep his hand stuffed in his pocket.

She watched both their breaths as they walked. She grabbed his arm and pulled a little to get his hand out of his pocket. She grabbed his hand with hers and laced her fingers with his.

He broke off with one word, "Don't."

Jerk, she thought to herself, and aloud if she really wanted. She didn't look at him anymore and for the rest of the way home walked a step ahead of him.

At home she put the bags on the kitchen table and went into the bathroom and closed the door.

She always expected him to act that way; just knowing, but when it did it made her feel worse.

Jondy took a long shower washing her hair. When she was done she wrapped one towel around herself, and one around her head. She'd have to go in her room, where he was, to get clothes, if he was in there at all.

Opening the bathroom door she went straight into her bedroom, and he wasn't there. She put on a sweat shirt and a pair of character pants she had brought a while back. When she brought them she had liked them, but not anymore. Though, she wasn't going to waste a resource she spent money on. Nobody was going to see them anyways.

After drying her hair she put the towel back in the bathroom, and turned off the light. The house was quiet, but not quite. A sound in the living room, she went there and found him on the floor against the wall holding himself; having a bad one.

She crouched down next to him. He acted like she wasn't even there. His eyes were closed, and his body wracked. He was probably suffering through a flashback that he couldn't get out of his mind. He just needed to let it go.

The poor girl wanted to help him, she really did, but he wouldn't want that. He wanted to always be strong, always; the tough one. But here he was in pain. She could see it with her very own eyes.

"Zack," she said quietly.

"Get away from me," he barked, eyes wide with anger, face full of rage. He locked eyes with her, and then went back into himself.

She was startled. His face read anger, but the underside read pain, or something else. He didn't let anybody in, so it could be a matter of things. He needed to let go, that was for sure.

She watched him with sad eyes and stood up and left the room. She went into the kitchen and sat down at the table with the gallon bottle of cranberry juice drinking from it every now and then.

No movement went on from Zack in the other room. She thought to herself that she should oblige to her original statement and keep to that he could spend the whole time here in silence. Maybe that was the only reason he was there: to be there, not for a visit, but to stay somewhere in his state. It wasn't using, so why did it hurt so much?

Drinking from the bottle she looked at the bills scattered on the table. Everything was on the table. She wasn't a very organized. Luckily most of them were handled on the account of an easy name- her first name stayed the same, Jondy, but her last name was Johnson. Very 'interesting' sounding, it was also original. There were a million 

'Johnsons' floating around the San Francisco area. She noted this with disdain, but there was no use to be an individual.

And most of the bills were payable at the closest pawn shop anyways.

Plus Zane liked it. His crazy self said he would make a nursery rhyme for her. She dropped a bomb on him, and he shut up for her not to bring up that incident. But that was a while ago. She hadn't had any contact with him for well over six months.

How was he? Was he still at the garage, and how was his dog? She didn't know his dog's name.

Zack came into the kitchen and sat down on the only other available seat in the kitchen.

She took a sip from the bottle and put her mail into a neat stack waiting for him to talk. If he had something to say, she would hear it, but only that. It wasn't worth it to try anything. He wasn't into it and never would be.

She wouldn't even make eye-contact with his dark, cold eyes.

"Jondy?" he questioned.

"Yes?" she answered back setting her keys on top the envelopes.

"Sorry," he managed.

Was it that hard for you to say? But all her angry feelings, thoughts and reactions were thrown out the window. It was like she 

wasn't even mad at him anymore. One reality, she didn't want to lose him, he may walk out that door and never look back.

"Whatever," she said and looked at him, he watched her back.

From under the table he brought out the new bottle of Tryptophan that was cracked all along the side.

That was the noise she heard.

"That's your bottle," she smirked. She brought two.

He put it on the table.

"Here," she said standing up and going into the bathroom and retrieved the money from the jeans that he had given her. At the table she put it in front of him.

Outside the sun was rising, but heavy thick clouds obscured the full brightness to take effect. It would rain later.

"It's yours," he said. In no way did he touch the money.

"I don't need it Zack. I'm capable of taking care of myself, and I got a hook up in 'madd tips.'"

He looked at her strangely.

"I'm very friendly." She took another sip of her juice.

That made him still looks at her strangely.

"You should sleep," she said realizing she was talking too much, and like a fool at that.

"Why," he said.

"You're not feeling well, you need your strength, and blah, blah, blah," she rattled lazily waving her hand through the air.

Zack got up from the table and drank some water from the tap.

"If you don't go lie down, I could knock you out. Atleast, I'll have my 'peace of mind.'" She said matter-of-fact.

"You wish you could," he said.

She got up from her chair and went up to him. Leaning up against him, her face was very much in his grill. He wasn't very much taller than she was.

"Say that to my face," she taunted.

He put both arms around her, which made everything suddenly so awkward. She was going to mess with him till they were play fighting, but now he had his arms around her instead of in a headlock.

"You know you are the only one that I don't have to worry about. Trouble would have to find you because you are so normal. I would never have to think, you know."

"Then why did you follow me to the store?" she challenged with a sly smile to her full lips. She could get used to this. His breath was warm and his body was too. She didn't have to be in heat to jump his bones.

"Because I wanted to be with you," he answered looking straight at her.

She could twist those words, but no matter what it wouldn't mean what she wanted it to mean. He wouldn't tell the truth; he couldn't tell the truth. He was "made" that way. They all were, but he was "special."

"You lie, you didn't trust me." She put both hands on his arms and put him at arm's length.

"I just told you I don't worry about you."

"That doesn't account trust," she added.

His features graced a hint of disbelief. "You know to never trust anyone," he said and let go.

She got stern and serious and replied, "I don't care what you say, but I trust you. You and the rest are the only people I will ever trust, if I ever see them."

He had nothing to say to that. But he did comment about her apartment, "I think you keep your end in keeping yourself safe."

It was true. Only a 'transgenic' would be able to break in without sight and sound. (Zack had sight to scare her on occasion-a lot!) But anyone else would disrupt something, or even break something. They may even break themselves if they made it out.

But Jondy was well known for being a peaceful, cheery person. She wasn't known for violence unless it was caused from bar fights. Golden girl, she was known by, but not enough attention to cause suspicion.

"Come on," she grabbed his warm hand, "I'll tuck you in and read you a story."

She dragged him into the bedroom.

"How would you know stories?" he questioned.

"I'll make it up, you'll like it. If not pretend you do," she quirked in.

He stopped fighting, for he wasn't feeling well again. He lied down on his stomach with his head flat against the pillow, her pillow. She hoped he didn't suffocate; unless she was the one to do it.

"Okay," she sat down next to him and put her blanket on him.

"Don't even." She knew he would never want anyone to take care of him, not even for just messing around.

"Hush, boy," she whooshed, "Your opinion doesn't matter."

She got up and opened the window, propping it up with a shoebox. She looked out. Everything was mainly quiet. It was still early yet. A good hour from now everyone will be waking up and setting up.

"Okay," she said sitting down again, "I will tell you a story and rub your back."

"You rub my back and I won't be held responsible for my actions," he muffled in the pillow.

"So," she smiled behind his back, and ran her hand down his back. Is this what it took? Hmmm………

"Once upon a time, in a failing economy there lives a girl named, erm, um, Cynthia," she found a loss for words. Why not tell the story Syl told her once? Zack was in it.

"Cynthia," Zack muttered apparently knowing where this was going.

"Yes," she pulled his hair lightly, "Anyways. Cynthia was a troublemaker, shame on her ol' lucky self. She had a buddy. His name was Kirby."

"Kirb-"

"Yes, Kirby," she cut in before he could comment; "You know the cartoon, game character."

He grumbled, wishing he was probably somewhere else, or with a drink. She could use one right about now. When he was alright in sleep, she'd make sure he stayed, in bed.

"Kirby and Cynthia were really close. Some even say since birth, and they were very intelligent; except this time, and because of that they were punished."

"The spaghetti burned in the grates, the fire alarm went off and the two of them were once again put into two foster homes. I know, I know," he lifted his head up, but she pushed him back down.

"Fine, fine, we won't mention what you did," she rubbed his head.

He slightly shook, but showed nothing of pain, or uncomfortability.

"Let me see," she hummed to herself.

"You're not going to be quiet, are you?" he muffled.

"No," she said rubbing his neck. Kneading it, pulling it she felt him shudder. She continued that.

So that's what he meant. This could get interesting, very interesting.

"Ok, fine, here's another one," she said, "Unlike you, I'm happy to talk about them."

He lifted his head and gave her a stern look.

"Just to you, geez." She wasn't stupid. As much as he made her feel stupid she wasn't. She knew when to run her mouth, and to always stay quiet.

"You're giving me second thoughts," he said, "You talk way too much." He lay back down.

"Because you don't talk at all. I have to let it out, somehow. You're so quiet. I know, I know that it's not to be spoken, we can't be found out, but it's who I am, and a part of me. Like the others it's something we can talk about without being called weird, or crazy." She stopped touching him.

'G.I Zack' spoke with his eyes as his dark eyes bored right into her. He closed his eyes fighting exhaustion. He was tired, she knew 

whether he showed it or not. When she was in his situation she felt tired and weak. She wanted to lie on the kitchen floor when it happened; on the floor against the kitchen cabinets where nobody would see or hear her.

Zack was just too different. It was hard sometimes. To want him very near, then to hear him speak and she want him away. It would always be like that. She had to live with it. He was who he was, and that was it.

Maybe messing around with him was not a good idea.

"Good morning Zack," she said, and leaned toward him. She was surprised to feel him return the kiss when her lips touched his. She grabbed clothes and dressed before going out for something to eat that early morning. When she returned he was gone; not a thing out of place.

Next time she saw him everything would return to normal, none of this would have happened.

-

Tell me what you think. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.


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